


The Marquis

by Cur_Non



Series: The Room Where it Happens [3]
Category: 18th & 19th Century CE RPF, 18th Century CE RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dom/sub, Gloves, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Tea, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 17:19:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6124186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cur_Non/pseuds/Cur_Non
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lafayette introduces Hamilton to his little game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Marquis

“Why does Lafayette want to meet us here?”  


“The _Marquis_ wanted me to bring you. I’ve no idea why.”  


They were in the elevator, a different one from the previous day.  


“Did he rent out the penthouse of this thing?”  


“He always does.”  


Jefferson had the key and when they entered the room Lafayette was seated in a large leather chair, his suit jacket hung on the coat rack behind him.  


“Jefferson, take a walk,” Lafayette said. “I need a word. Alone.”  


Jefferson nodded and backed out of the apartment, leaving Hamilton by the door.  


Lafayette got up and crossed the room. “I’m sorry he treated you like that. Yesterday. I hope you’re all right.”  


“What—oh. Oh. He told you?”  


“He didn’t have to,” Lafayette said with a sniff. “He’s a terrible liar.”  


Hamilton seemed uncomfortable. “He told me I should call you ‘The Marquis.’”  


“You don’t have to! You don’t have to do anything. I was going to invite you to—to join our little game, but that stupid Southern idiot—“ he shook his head and corrected himself. “—He went against everything I asked him to do.”  


“So—so what exactly is the game?”  


“I hit him with things.”  


Hamilton laughed. “What?”  


Lafayette, gratified at making Hamilton laugh, took a more serious tone. “I’m his—well, he calls me the Marquis because—“  


“Are you his—“ he wrinkled his nose, “—his ‘Daddy’ or something?”  


“I don’t like that word,” Lafayette said stiffly. “I don’t like to infantilize.”  


“But you—boss him around.”  


“Basically.”  


“In bed.”  


“Yes.”  


“And that’s fun for you.”  


“I’ve always enjoyed giving commands.”  


“He called me his ‘pussycat.’”  


“Oh, no—“ Lafayette leaned forward and tipped Hamilton’s chin up until his lips parted, “—no, no, Hamilton. You’re a little lion.”  


“A lion?”  


“Small, but fierce.”  


“And what’s Jefferson?”  


“He’s a fox.” He let his fingers trace along Hamilton’s jaw. “Only a fox.”  


Hamilton shivered.  


“I don’t want to make you do anything,” Lafayette whispered, leaning even closer. “Not without your permission, anyway.” He pulled back and returned to his normal voice. “If you’d like to just have tea and talk as usual, I’ll just send Jefferson on an errand for another hour or so.”  


“I liked yesterday,” Hamilton admitted, embarrassed by how aroused he was getting from such a simple conversation.  


Lafayette raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Did you? Jefferson—well, he doesn’t always play by the rules.”  


“So how does this work? Do I get like a safety word, or—“  


“If you want one,” Lafayette said. “I’ve never had anyone use one with me before.”  


“You must be good.”  


“I’m _dedicated_ ,” he replied. “I’m attentive and considerate. It makes me very popular.”  


“You have this arrangement with a lot of people?”  


Lafayette laughed. “No, I meant in life in general.”  


“Oh.”  


“Come, pet,” he went on, “I will explain it all to you.”

 

There was a knock at the door, a single knock.  


“Any other questions?” Lafayette asked.  


“No,” Hamilton said. “—Did you want me to get that?”  


“If you would,” Lafayette said, smiling. “That will be Jefferson.”  


Jefferson looked disappointed that Hamilton was the one to open the door.  


“Oh,” he said. “You’re still here.”  


“What’s in the bag?” Hamilton asked him.  


“Three blankets and six bottles of water,” Jefferson said without looking at him. “I hope you brought your own.”  


“What for?”  


Jefferson smirked. “Oh, you yappy little idiot. We’re going to have fun tonight.” He put the bag down and stretched his arms over his head. “Are you sure you can handle more? I won’t go easy on you this time.”  


“Foxes shouldn’t make promises they can’t keep,” Lafayette said softly.  


Jefferson froze.  


“Have we started yet?” Hamilton asked.  


“Stop—talking—“ Jefferson said through gritted teeth.  


“Who’s giving orders here?” Lafayette asked calmly.  


“The Marquis,” Jefferson responded automatically, moving away from Hamilton.  


“That’s right.”  


“Do you want me to call you that?” Hamilton asked.  


“You do whatever you feel comfortable doing,” Lafayette said. “If you want to just observe this time, that’s fine. _He_ doesn’t mind.”  


Jefferson grinned at Hamilton. “Watch and learn, pussycat.”  


“The desk.”  


“Yes, Marquis.”  


“You were very good,” Lafayette said to Jefferson. “It _almost_ makes up for ruining the game I had intended—don’t argue, believe me, you don’t _want_ to argue.”  


At Lafayette’s instruction, Jefferson pulled off his shirt and black-washed jeans and leaned over the desk.  


“Watch closely, little lion. He can’t take much of this, after what I did to him yesterday.” He ran the riding crop down along Jefferson’s spine and he shivered.  


“Can we not make this a lesson for the schoolboy?”  


“I’m only going to give you two,” Lafayette said to him. “Since I went a little overboard earlier.”  


“Thank you.”  


“Are you sore?”  


“I’m fine.”  


Lafayette moved his free hand over Jefferson’s ass. Jefferson winced.  


“And you’re going to drive all the way back to Monticello tomorrow.”  


“Yes.”  


“Don’t forget to rest along the way.”  


“Yes, Marquis.”  


“Good.”  


“One—“  


“Oh, how nice of you to count.”  


“Two—“  


“Another?”  


“Please—“  


Lafayette struck him a third time, and Jefferson bent over the desk, leaning against it heavily.  


“I like you like that,” Lafayette said, looking him over. “Is that comfortable? Will it be if I tie your wrists?”  


“Yes,” Jefferson replied.  


Lafayette turned to Hamilton. “Are you good at knots?”  


Hamilton shrugged. “Good enough.”  


Lafayette handed him two strips of soft leather. “Go tie his wrists to the desk.”  


Jefferson rolled his eyes at Hamilton when he could be sure Lafayette wouldn’t see. He bent over the desk, his bare chest against the wood, and Hamilton tied his arms to the legs of the desk. Because of his height, Jefferson had to stand with his legs apart in order to be at a comfortable angle. Lafayette came to inspect Hamilton’s work.  


“That isn’t too tight, I hope?”  


“No, Marquis,” Jefferson said, preferring not to look at Hamilton, who was still kneeling by the front of the desk.  


Lafayette pressed his hips against him, sliding his hands down Jefferson’s chest.  


“Please.”  


“Please what.”  


“Touch me.”  


“You think you’ve earned it?”  


“I was good. I did everything you said.”  


“That you did.” Lafayette slid his hands down, dragging his nails along Jefferson’s sides. 

 

“Be a dear,” he said to Hamilton, his hand working over Jefferson’s cock through the thin fabric. “Bring me my gloves, there—yes, on the table. Thank you.”  


Hamilton brought the black gloves and Lafayette straightened up and let Hamilton pull them on him. “These are custom,” he explained. “Gloves should always be made-to-measure.” The leather was thin and supple and, naturally, fit perfectly. Lafayette flexed his fingers.  


Jefferson let out a frustrated hiss.  


“All right, all right,” Lafayette said as he rolled his sleeves up, “You’re always so impatient. No wonder you are constantly disobeying me.”  


“A little rebellion now and then is a good thing,” Jefferson replied.  


“Do not start thinking this is a reward for bad behavior,” Lafayette said, leaning over Jefferson and grinding his hips against him. “This is for good behavior not bad.” He tugged down Jefferson’s briefs and Jefferson twitched underneath him.  


Hamilton bit his lip. He didn’t know what to do—what _could_ he do? But Jefferson’s erection was full and obvious, his cock now exposed and jutting out towards the desk, and Hamilton was reminded of the previous day, of kneeling before him and taking him into his mouth—  


Lafayette wrapped a gloved hand around his shaft and Jefferson gripped the edge of the desk. Lafayette moved slowly over his cock, slow enough that Jefferson tried to rock his hips and Lafayette put his free hand at his hip.  


“You don’t decide,” he said.  


Jefferson let out a little whine.  


“Would you bring me the handkerchief from my jacket?”  


Hamilton did so, feeling a hitch in his throat as he watched Lafayette stroking Jefferson, imagined the feeling of soft leather over his dick—  


“You’ll be able to see better if you get under the desk,” Lafayette said to him. “Take the handkerchief with you.”  


Hamilton crawled under the table. Lafayette was right, he _could_ see better from this angle. Jefferson, with his underwear around his knees and Lafayette’s hand around his cock, the leather of his glove shining with precum, and though the legs were strong he could feel the tremor of the table as 

Jefferson leaned more heavily against it. Lafayette’s arousal was evident, too, from the way he pressed his hips against Jefferson, almost as if he were _fucking_ him—  


“I want you to stop me before you come,” Lafayette was saying.  


“What?”  


“Was that not clear?”  


“You want me to—“  


“I do.”  


“But—“  


“I do _so_ many things for you,” Lafayette went on, “I called that cab, to bring you to the restaurant, I called ahead to get a room for you—“  


“Yes—“  


“I punish you when you’ve been bad—“ he moved his hand more roughly over him, “—and reward you when you’re good.”  


“Yes, Marquis, yes—“  


“—So I don’t think it’s too much to ask, is it?”  


“No—“  


“And I know just how you like it— _Just_ what gets you off—“  


Jefferson’s knees threatened to buckle. Hamilton could hear him moaning softly above him on the desk.  


Lafayette moved his free hand down and gestured for the handkerchief. But when Hamilton tried to hand it to him, he grabbed his wrist instead, wrapped _his_ hand around Jefferson’s cock, and took his own away so that it was Hamilton who finished him, Jefferson coming without announcing as promised, but with a low, prolonged moan, Lafayette rocking his hips into him, also bracing himself on the desk.  


Cum dripped down Hamilton’s arm and into his lap as he knelt halfway between them, his erection pressing uncomfortably against his jeans.  


“Untie me,” Jefferson said, his voice thin and weak.  


Hamilton did, hastily, and Jefferson sunk down to his knees, panting. Lafayette gave his shoulder a squeeze and Jefferson leaned into his arm.  


“My gloves,” Lafayette said. He let Jefferson kiss and bite at his hand, slowly peeling the leather away, sucking at the tips of his fingers.  


“And the other one.”  


Hamilton watched this exchange with wide eyes, still crouched beneath the table, one hand balled around the wet handkerchief, the other gripping his knee with more force than he needed to.  


And then Lafayette was kneeling on the floor, that same hand outstretched to help him out from under the desk.  


Hamilton rocked up on the balls of his feet for a moment, stretching his legs, and Lafayette smiled at him, a little pleased smile, like he knew something that Hamilton didn’t.  


There were bite marks on Jefferson’s shoulder.  


“Bed,” Lafayette said to him, and snapped his fingers so Jefferson would follow.  


Lafayette pulled Hamilton into his lap, his head back against his chest.  


“You’re such a pretty thing,” Lafayette said, his hand toying with the buttons of Hamilton’s collar.  


“Take it off,” Hamilton said breathlessly. “I’m too hot.”  


Lafayette tried not to smile. “Are you?” He helped him unbutton his shirt and pull it off. He slipped his fingers into the waist of his pants. “These too?”  


“Please,” Hamilton said in almost a whine. His heart was pounding in his chest, he could feel Lafayette, hard against his back—  


“You know what to do.”  


It was a command directed at Jefferson, but Hamilton thought it sounded familiar. Had Lafayette given him such a command earlier?  


Jefferson, having sufficiently recovered, leaned up between Hamilton’s legs and deftly undid his fly. Hamilton arched to let him tug down his pants, exposing his cock to them, and Jefferson—now only inches from it—raised an eyebrow at him and grinned.  


“Please,” Hamilton said again to Lafayette, tipping his hips up. Jefferson looked over Hamilton’s shoulder at Lafayette, who gave him a short nod.  


Jefferson ran his nails down the inside of Hamilton’s thighs, causing him to spread his legs and gasp in surprise, and then he slid closer between them, taking just the head into his mouth.  


Hamilton let out a groan, leaning hard into Lafayette’s shoulder.  


“Turn over.”  


“What?”  


“On your hands and knees.”  


Hamilton did so with some difficulty, impatient for the contact that had been so suddenly denied him.  


Jefferson nipped at the back of Hamilton’s thigh and he jerked his legs further apart.  


“Hey—“  


Lafayette watched them, one hand lazily touching himself over his slacks as Jefferson held Hamilton’s hips and pressed his tongue between them. He moved his tongue in slow circles, teasing him, until Hamilton’s whole body trembled.  


“Please,” he gasped, pushing back slightly. His cock was aching now, he could feel the pulse of heat in his loins. Precum dripped onto the sheets.  


“Do it yourself,” Lafayette said, in that same smooth voice that seemed like it could cut through anything.  


Hamilton leaned down onto his left arm and with his right wrapped his hand around his cock, working himself quickly, urgently.  


“Slow down.”  


“But—“  


“Pace yourself.”  


Hamilton let out a little whine, and he could feel Jefferson laugh hot against his thighs. He forced himself to slow down, to find a tempo that matched what 

Jefferson was doing with his tongue, but he couldn’t keep himself from moaning softly, over and over and over.  


“Please,” he said again, not sure if he was asking Lafayette’s permission or begging Jefferson for just a little more of the heat from his tongue.  


Lafayette let out a breathy laugh, and Hamilton looked up, looked at Lafayette touching himself, touching his cock and watching _them_ , watching them with those dark eyes and his lips parted, just a little, just enough that Hamilton wanted to bite the bottom one, to kiss him and suck on it a little, suck on _him_ a little, see if he could make _him_ moan instead—  


Lafayette tipped his head back, just a little, just enough that Hamilton could see the line of his throat and where a thin gold chain dipped over his collarbone, his mouth opening just a bit more, and Hamilton found himself helpless to stop the sensation that tore through him in a rush of heat.  


Jefferson rubbed his mouth on the back of his hand, and looked at Hamilton, panting on his hands and knees, cum streaking his thighs and the sheets.  


“Will that do you?” he asked.  


“Oh, I think so,” Lafayette said.  


“No,” Hamilton said, still out of breath. “Please. Let me.” He moved up on the bed until he was between Lafayette’s knees, until he could kiss and lick at his cock through the fabric, feel Lafayette laugh breathily and tip his hips forward towards him and Hamilton groaned, soft and hungry. Lafayette helped him slide the fabric down, let his cock spring out, and Hamilton took him in his mouth, his hands gripping his thighs. He ran his tongue along the thick vein that ran along the underside, teasing his slit, and watched Lafayette’s chest rise and fall at shorter and shorter intervals. He took him further and further, trying to give himself time to adjust, trying to elicit more of a reaction, but it wasn’t until Lafayette’s cock rubbed against the back of his throat that he got a real moan, low and breathy. Hamilton pulled back to get more air, and Lafayette’s hand went to his shoulder, a silent command to not move away.  


“Don’t stop,” he said. It wasn’t a request.  


Hamilton took him back into his mouth, and Lafayette’s grip tightened on his shoulder.  


“Use your hand,” he said, his voice dark.  


Hamilton obliged, working his length with his hand.  


“Faster,” Lafayette commanded.  


Hamilton felt a little shiver of pleasure move through him as Lafayette arched beneath him.  


“I want to swallow,” Hamilton said, a bit hoarsely, his lips brushing wet against the tip of his shaft. “Please don’t tell me to stop.”  


“As you wish,” Lafayette said with a breathless laugh. His fingers curled into Hamilton’s hair. “But don’t stop.” He pushed Hamilton’s head down, and 

Hamilton let out a little moan as Lafayette pulled at his hair, forcing him to adjust his pacing to better please him, and he rubbed himself against the sheets, against the sweat and cum and smell of him.  


Lafayette tugged at his hair a little harder, watched his cock slide in and out of Hamilton’s mouth, hot and wet, watched him grind his hips into the bed, his nails biting into his thighs.  


He’d meant to at least warn him, but there wasn’t time, not with him _sucking_ him like that, stroking the base of his cock with his hand until he was finished, and only then pulling off, licking the head clean.

 

Hamilton sunk back into the mattress as Lafayette wiped himself with a tissue and did up his fly. He pushed a stray lock of hair back into place.  


“Ready for tea, my little lion?” he asked Hamilton.  


“What?” Hamilton rolled onto his side, still out of breath and half hard again from his exertions.  


“We always end with tea,” Lafayette explained. “It’s a little habit of mine.”  


“Tea?”  


“It’s good for the mind and body. Very grounding.”  
Hamilton looked around. Jefferson was dressed and standing on the far side of the room by an electric kettle. Three blue-and-white china cups and matching saucers were next to him.  


“This is…odd,” Hamilton said.  


“Not really,” said Jefferson. “We do it every time.”  


Lafayette knelt by the side of the bed and leaned in towards Hamilton. “Go wash up, and come out for tea. You’ll feel better, I promise.”  


“I feel okay,” Hamilton protested, but Lafayette was already standing up and walking away. Hamilton forced himself to get up. 

 

When he got out of the shower—feeling hot and tired—Lafayette and Jefferson were waiting for him by the table.  


“Do you take cream or sugar?”  


“What? No, I’m fine without.”  


“Good. I told you he’d like it straight, Jefferson.”  


Jefferson made a face. “’s better with cream and sugar.”  


“You’d like it cold and sweet.”  


“If I had to choose.”  


“Oh, don’t forget to give him some water.”  


“Right.” Jefferson tossed a now-chilled bottle of water to Hamilton. “You better drink that whole thing. Dehydration.”  


“How often do you do this?”  


Jefferson looked at Lafayette. “Handful of times a year?”  


Lafayette nodded. “Some here, some in Paris. I have a nice little apartment I keep in the city.“  


“You’re going to invite him to Paris?”  


“Why not?”  


Hamilton sat beside them, and Lafayette gave Jefferson a swat when he stood to pour tea.  


“You didn’t follow my instructions earlier. We’ll keep working on it.” He turned to Hamilton. “Next time you see him in Paris he’ll be much better behaved.”

 

***

 

“What’s this Hamilton? A Paris trip?”  


“It’s just for the weekend, sir. I’ll only miss Friday.”  


“And I assume you’ll do work while you’re there.”  


“Yes, sir. Believe me, I’ll be working hard.”  


“Once in a while, Hamilton, you should really take a break.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, Jefferson is our unreliable narrator...Basically everything he does in part one he stole from Lafayette, and then it was poorly executed. Tsk tsk.
> 
> Oh, and if you want to read this as Lafayette is a vampire, more power to you. Surprising amount to work with, there.


End file.
